Em made me do this. I have no idea what it means.
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104 As a 1930s husband, I am |
Em made me do this. I have no idea what it means.
![]() |
104 As a 1930s husband, I am |
I did not expect to see the Holy Family on sale in my local hypermarket.
As you’ve noticed, Tiny Planet has been in sleep mode for the last couple of weeks. Work has been busy and I’m sure I can find all sorts of other excuses as to why I haven’t blogged. Why do I not write book or fiml reviews? Why do I not just write streams of consciousness? Why do I not post links? No matter. I’ve resigned from The National and return to Ireland in September.
I am a very, very tired blogger these days. However, I have come to several conclusions.
One: coffee tastes better with hazelnut syrup. Step up Starbucks latte, take a bow. However, it has not displaced the mocha as the ultimate coffee concoction.
Two: KFC’s wrapstar thing is crap. Scrawny chicken, so-so bread, not very delicious nachos.
Three: it is possible for one’s groceries to thaw on the five-minute walk from cab to apartment.
Four: I should not be given a credit card and then allowed in a book shop.
(click for high-res, in focus version)
The newspaper I came to work for in Abu Dhabi has launched. Months of hard work from all parties involved (I was a mere interloper at three-and-a-half months’ service) have come to fruition. I do not think I can accurately describe how happy I am that the paper is finally out, how happy I am that there is now a tangible payoff for what I’ve been working on.
The newsroom was abuzz yesterday afternoon as we trooped in to get the show on the road. Everybody was taken with the sense that now was the time and yes, this was really going to happen. After weeks of dry runs — where we produced full editions but they did not go to print — we were itching to get things moving. This was not limited to us mere oiks in production, but shared by reporters, comment editors such as Rasheed and senior editors such as Colin.
Suited for the occasion, undoubtedly the biggest of my career so far, I entered the fray of text editing alongside my keyboard-wielding colleagues and we came out the other side largely intact. A little frayed, perhaps, and a little stretched, but nonetheless glowing and grinning at having played parts, however tiny, in helping The National make it to the streets of the United Arab Emirates. The main paper-builders, of course, include Martin Newland, the editor-in-chief, Hassan Fattah, the deputy editor, and the aforementioned Colin, the executive editor.
(Martin, as you might expect, spent the evening at the Emirates Palace Hotel at the gala launch of the newspaper. Colin and Hassan largely spent it on the newsroom floor [thanks for the pizzas, Hassan] keeping us on the straight and narrow, along with the production editor Rob McKenzie and his deputy David Green.)
I have only been in print rooms two or three times, but I do love the smell of ink. It hangs in the air as the presses hammer and thread raw newsprint and transform it into the collection of words and pictures you hold in your hands. As midnight came and went we headed to the press building in search of early editions. We did not find them, but the arts section was fully printed up while business and sport were coming off the machines at a rate of knots. Waves of people from other sections of the paper came and went, all seeking a touch of the magic that came with launching this newspaper. The news section suffered its delays but later that morning the first copies of The National made their ways onto newsstands in Abu Dhabi and elsewhere. We had arrived.
We have taken the first steps. We have come a long way from the temporary newsroom we inhabited until last week. Now we do it all over again every night. π
The subprime mortgage crisis is likely to mean losses of $945bn worldwide. It comes as house prices in Ireland return to realistic levels, at least according to the governor of the Central Bank, who is ignoring an IMF claim that the market is still 30% overvalued. (Incidentally, the mortgage loss report is also from the IMF). But I wonder: given the subprime fallout, will an Irish bank ever want to give me a mortgage?
I haven’t forgotten about the blog, I’ve just been busy kitting out my apartment and getting to grips with work. Also, I have yet to get the internet hooked up at home and Facebook is blocked at work, so my apologies to all those I’m playing Scrabble with — I shall return to the boards anon. Once I get a broadband connection in the flat I’ll upload a few pics of the place.
As I write this it’s hazy and cold in Abu Dhabi. It may even rain soon, something I’m told hasn’t happened in the city for almost 12 months.